


Witch's Duel

by jamwrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Magic, POV Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Swearing, Witch AU, gay witch fight, klance, klangst, lol whut do i even tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12625182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamwrites/pseuds/jamwrites
Summary: Deep in the heart of the woods, in a hidden obsidian pentacle, two witches face off in a duel fueled by rivalry, jealousy, and...teenage angst, of course.Excerpt:Without missing a beat, Keith leapt to his feet, reached over his shoulder, and drew from nothingness a thin line of searing red light.“Fine. Eat shit, McClain!” Keith yelled, then hurled the laser shaft at Lance.Lance barely had time to throw up a Ward, much less think of a witty retort. The laser slammed into his table-sized wall of energy. The Ward held, but Lance slid back several feet on the smooth black stone. He gritted his teeth and dug his heels in. No way he was going to be knocked down. Not by Keith, of all people.Lance flicked his chin, and the Ward enveloped the laser, rechanneling and transforming its power into a stream of flying paper fishes. They swam harmlessly through the air and dissolved peacefully into the night among the stars.





	Witch's Duel

The cloaked figure strode through the trees, shadows pooling in his footsteps. All around him the forest was dark, impenetrable, unknowable, filled with strange lights and distant voices and the thrum of the energy of a thousand thousand godlings. Overhead the moon was swollen and ready to burst. 

All at once the trees fell away and the figure walked briskly into a clearing. Though it was too dark to see, the boy knew that the clearing was actually an obsidian pentacle large enough to sit a house on. He was also pretty sure that, since it was the hangout spot of choice for some of the witches after school, somebody  _ had  _ once teleported a clubhouse here once or twice. 

“ _ Il’liumme. _ ”

The white chalk lines outlining the pentacle blazed forth in a brilliant white light, throwing sharp black shapes onto the trees surrounding the clearing. And the boy could see he was not alone.

On the far side of the pentacle stood another cloaked figure, though the fabric of this one was a deep and rich red, contrasting with the boy’s own blue. 

“You’re late.”

Lance drew back his hood. “Uh, am not.”

“Are to,” Keith said, revealing his own face. A mess of black hair spilled down around his neck like an inky ocean. He yanked at a string on his cloak and it fluttered to the ground, leaving Keith only in his usual garb of a puffy cream tunic and pants; he cut a trim figure in the darkness and the blinding light. His frustratingly perfect jawline looked as if they could slice through glass. 

Not that Lance was noticing, of course.

“What, you thought I was gonna run from you?”

“Maybe.”

“Then you don’t know me at all. I would never pass up a chance to kick Keith Kogane’s butt.”

“Um. You’re the one who set this up,” Keith said.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Look, are we gonna fight or are we gonna fight? I have places to be. Hot witches to kiss.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are girls just  _ lining up _ to make out with Lance McClain.”

“More than you!”

“Prick.”

“Asshole.”

“Potion drinker.”

“Warlock.”

Keith drew back in disgust. “Oh, you did  _ not. _ ”

“Maybe I did.” Lance smeared the most smug smile in his arsenal all over his face. “What are you gonna do about,  _ warlock _ ?”

Just like he expected, Keith roared in fury. He stuck out his hands and a blazing halo of red light appeared in the air before him, then quickly solidified into fire that bounded like an angry dog across the pentacle towards Lance. 

Finally. Blessedly.

_ Let’s go, Mullethead. _

Lance flicked his middle finger at Keith, activating one of the many ring charms he wore. The sapphire set into the copper flashed and the flames were snuffed out like a glorified candle. 

“Fire? Really? How freshman of you,” Lance yawned, lounging against a stray tree growing out of the obsidian. “What are you gonna throw at me next? A curse?”

“God, do you ever shut up?” Keith grabbed the red amulet hanging around his neck and slashed his arm down through the air. Instantly, the tree Lance was leaning on began to change. The bark bubbled and hissed, then began to feel remarkably like boiling tar. When Lance tried to recoil he found the entire right side of his body was glued to the tree. Not only that, but the gooey, burning substance was drawing him in like quicksand. Fuck.

“Oohh, turning an inanimate object into Devil’s Spit! How original!” Lance called, trying to flatten out the nervous wobble in his voice. This was actually sort of concerning. Half the work of casting spells was waving your arms around like a deranged idiot. And if his hands were glued, well. One could see how a magic fight might become difficult.

He had to think fast. Using his one free limb, Lance stuck out his leg and sketched a messy rune on the obsidian. It wasn’t his best work, but it would have to do. 

“ _ Caellum! _ ” He hissed. Nothing. “Come on, you finicky--I said  _ caellum _ !” 

This time the magic seemed to take hold. The rune sputtered to life and slowly began to grow a raincloud above the rune. With a low rumble and a bit of lightning, the cloud rained down a soothing shower that melted the tar away from Lance’s body. 

He looked down at himself to assess the damage: his skin seemed ok, but--

“My shirt! You ruined my shirt!” Lance jerked his head up to stare at Keith. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”

“You’re worried about your _ shirt?  _ What the hell is going on in your head?” Keith’s dumb perfect hair blew around his face like a male model’s, and god did his pants hug his hips in just the right--

_ Focus. What the hell is wrong with you? _

Well, Lance thought he knew what was wrong, but that wasn’t the point. 

“You want a piece of this—”

“I don’t want a piece of any—”

“Then come get it.” Lance twisted a ring on his thumb.

Welling from some subterranean ocean, a giant wave of water crested in front of him. Lance felt his eyes glowing a frosty, magical sheen of blue. He willed the water forward:  _ go get ‘em, boys. _

The wave tumbled towards Keith, sloshing and turning over on itself as if it were bottlenecked, which it was, thanks to all the enchantments Lance had layered onto that particular ring. Keith yelped and tried to jump out of the way, but the water was too quick. It clipped his shoulder and threw him back against a gnarled old tree on the border of the pentacle. 

Without missing a beat, Keith leapt to his feet, reached over his shoulder, and drew from nothingness a thin line of searing red light. 

“Fine. Eat shit, McClain!” Keith yelled, then hurled the laser shaft at Lance.

Lance barely had time to throw up a Ward, much less think of a witty retort. The laser slammed into his table-sized wall of energy. The Ward held, but Lance slid back several feet on the smooth black stone. He gritted his teeth and dug his heels in. No way he was going to be knocked down. Not by Keith, of all people. 

Lance flicked his chin, and the Ward enveloped the laser, rechanneling and transforming its power into a stream of flying paper fishes. They swam harmlessly through the air and dissolved peacefully into the night among the stars. 

And so their battle was waged. For all their blustering, Lance was discovering that he and Keith were actually pretty evenly matched witches; he just couldn’t find a good way to really knock the wind out of Keith’s sails. They traded blows, cycling through all the elemental magics, then moved on to fancy energy blasts that wreaked havoc on the forest around them. Lance sprinted around the outskirts of the pentacle, whipping hexes off his hands like a dealer shuffling cards. Keith was ready for them all, catching them in all manner of snares and traps and slingshotting them right back at Lance. 

The only good part about fighting Keith, Lance found, was how easy he was to piss off. Oftentimes Keith would fly into a blind rage and slip up. If Lance managed to taunt him enough Keith would inevitably let fly with some reckless charm or otherwise leave himself open to attack. 

As intense as the duel was, however, Lance also contemplated life in general as he fought. Like some sort of battle meditation. Letting all this magic flow felt so fucking cathartic. Going to the same witch coven as Keith was...difficult, at best. It seemed like the boy’s main mission in life was to piss Lance off. All Lance ever wanted to do was prove to Keith and his stupid upturned nose that he could be just as good a witch as he was, that his magic was just as potent. But Keith ever ignored him or argued with him. It had only been a matter of time before he had to challenge Keith to a witch’s duel. To maintain his diginity, of course. 

And yet. Even Lance had to admit to himself that there was something else driving all of this...whatever it was. But Keith Kogane? Really? Even he had a tough time believing that one. 

He snapped back to reality: Keith was down again, but there was no mercy in Lance’s heart. 

Lance clapped his hands together, then drew them apart in a slow, dramatic gesture. Humming blue spiderwebs of energy spread between his fingers. With a little careful crafting, the webs resolved themselves into orderly lines spinning in the air; a nice little spell circle, if Lance did say so himself. He quickly sketched a few of the more viscous attack runes in his repertoire into the circle, then let the whole thing loose. A blast of ice and lightning rocketed from the circle high into the air, where it split off into many different streams like a multi-headed dragon. 

Lance watched Keith crane his neck back to trace the trajectory of the beams. Keith’s throat was pale in the moonlight, his eyes filled with something almost like wonder. 

He was beautiful. 

The beams reached the apex of their shot, turned, and slowly began to fall back to earth, picking up more and more speed as they went. 

Keith snapped out of it and seemed to realize what was happening. He swore, plucked a piece of chalk from a bag hanging on his belt, and drew a perfect defense matrix on the stone arena. A hazy red shield erected itself around him just as Lance’s spell hit home.

The beams of light exploded against the ground like terrible falling stars, throwing up chunks of obsidian and dirt. Lance stood, robes fluttering in the destruction, watching the comets rain down upon Keith’s shield. He wanted to beat Keith so bad. He wanted to beat his fists against his chest and cry out at him and yell everything that was swelling in his breast. But how could he ever give voice to those feelings? He hated Keith, right? That was the way it was supposed to be. At least, it was easier to handle if he told himself that.

“Who’s the better witch now?” Lance shouted, advancing towards Keith. “Who’s better at magic, huh?” For some reason, there were tears running down his face.

Keith straightened up. The red shield disintegrated around him into a fistful of red sparks. “What the fuck is your problem, dude? Is that what this is about?”

“Yes! No! Don’t act like you don’t know what it’s about!” Lance blew into the conch shell hanging from his neck, summoning the winds of the sea. But when they reached Keith, they seemed to divert around an invisible sphere, blowing and beating themselves to shreds against an immovable object. 

The trees around them were shaking. From the corner of his eye Lance could see curious forest godlings walking between the twisted oaks, drawn to the scent of so much magic released in one spot. 

“Then just tell me what’s going on with you!”

“Since when have you ever cared what’s going on with me? You hate me!”

“What? I don’t hate you.”

Lance didn’t know what to say to this. He stopped in his tracks. “Well, I hate you!” 

The words made Keith wince. Lance stood, trembling with emotion and magic, waiting for Keith to make the next move. 

“Alright,” Keith whispered. “Time to find out what the hell’s really going on.”

He raised a hand, fingers curled into claws, and began chanting a summoning song. 

The effect was instant. The white lines of the pentacle blurred in Lance’s vision, and his whole body became stuffy and numb as if it had been filled with cotton that had been set on fire. Worst of all was the deep tugging sensation, like someone had tied a string around rapidly beating heart and was now being yanking on it. 

Lance gagged. Something was coming up and out of his throat. He collapsed to his knees and tried to throw up, only instead of vomit came a procession of hazy, floating shapes.

Spirit after spirit rose up from Lance’s mouth, drawn out by Keith’s summons. When the last had been exhumed Lance was knocked on his back, left gasping for air, clawing at his throat. But the ordeal wasn’t over yet. 

The spirits danced in a circle around Lance. They sang with the voice of children, of Lance as a child, only now his voice was sea shells, now seagulls crying out, now his mother’s laugh. 

Lance dug up the last of his strength and turned his head to look at Keith. He had drawn the spirits away from Lance and seemed to be conversing with them. At least, his mouth was moving. Lance couldn’t actually hear anything. His ears were too busy reeling with sensory overload, his brain too mashed into pudding to be much use decoding air vibrations at the moment. 

One of the spirits dove through the air and then through Keith’s chest. Keith staggered. Jerked his head at Lance. He looked stricken. His eyes were so, so wide. Like a child’s.

_ Tell him _ , Lance wanted to say.  _ You might as well tell him, because I’m too much of a coward. _

But he knew his soulspirits would not be the precise. All they would do was give Keith hints. Shreds. Snippets. Such was often the way of magic. 

Keith’s mouth opened wide, and a fountain of red spirits hurtled out. Twenty feet tall and skeletal, they danced in the pentagram with Lance’s. For how long he couldn’t say. Hours, possibly. Stars wheeled overhead. The moon went through phase after phase, waxing and waning until it was the same once again. 

Then, all at once, the blue spirits broke away and dove headlong back Lance’s throat.

He rolled on the ground, coughing. When he tried to vomit, this time his lunch really did come up. 

Had Keith really just…? 

Lance forced himself to at least his hands and knees, then crawled over to where Keith lay in a crumpled, unmoving mass on the obsidian. 

“Keith,” Lance said, though his voice was several levels below a hoarse whisper. “Keith. Are you okay?”

His face was pale in the moonlight, and smooth as cream. Black hairs lay fluttering across his forehead as if they had been arranged that way. It was a gift, to be able to study Keith’s features without fear of being caught staring. His eyelashes, so dark and long they were almost girly. Thick eyebrows. Bones in his face that curved and swooped like joyful birds. 

Keith stirred. A low moan escaped through his lips. His eyes scrunched together, then opened. 

“Lance?”

Oh, fuck. Lance felt his heart squeeze. The look Keith was giving him…it was stripped down, bare, raw, clean of the dirt of whatever was between them in waking, normal hours. 

“Hey, you dumb idiot. That was some pretty serious magic you just pulled.”

Keith groaned. Tried to sit up, then fell back on his side. Lance was there to catch him, though, so he laid Keith’s head back into his lap. 

In his core, Lance felt completely and utterly spent.  

“I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. I should never have--”

“Keith, do you have a crush on me?”

The words slipped out before Lance could catch them. But then, he wasn’t so sure he would have wanted to. This moment seemed unreal. Their souls had just danced together; nobody’s soul came back unchanged after dancing with another. Lance knew things about Keith that nobody else did now. He wasn’t sure there was much of a point in trying to avoid this.

Keith’s eyes widened. There was the distinct sensation in Lance of sprinting down a flight of stairs. Exhilteration pumped throughout his every blood vessel and if he looked back or stopped to think about what the hell he was doing, he was going to fall, possibly to his death. 

“Yeah,” Keith said, voice shaping into a smile. “Yeah, it’s kind of stupid how much of a crush I have on you.”

Lance couldn’t help it. He wheezed out a small laugh. “Ok. Just checking. Because I think...I think feel the same about you.”

“Oh, is that why you were trying to beat me up and telling me you hate me? Do you treat all your crushes that way?”

“Just the ones I really like.”

But the truth was, this was all so new to Lance. He had never done...this...with a boy before. He was floundering in the dark. 

Only he wasn’t in the dark. His entire body felt lit up like a beacon, like the pentagram they had just destroyed, like all the blazing stars in the dome of the sky. He liked Keith. He had a crush on Keith Kogane.  _ And Keith Kogane liked him the fuck back.  _

Lance said a small word of healing, and a pink aura cast itself over him and Keith. Instantly his skin felt warmer, his body a little more sturdy.   
“Thanks,” Keith said. He seemed to realize he was laying in Lance’s lap. “So...uh...what happens now?”  
Lance sighed and looked heavenward. “Honestly? I have no idea.” 

“Sorry I ripped the souls from your body.”

“Sorry I was so mean to you.”

“Yeah, well.”

“I mean...I wanted to show you I was good enough, you know? I think that’s what it was. I just wanted to prove to you...I was afraid that I wasn’t good enough for you. So I lashed out. And I’m sorry.”

Revitalized by the healing charm, Keith drew himself away from Lance, and Lance instantly missed the weight of Keith’s head on his legs. 

“Lance,” Keith said, holding the magnetic connection between their eyes. “You’re good enough.”

“But-”

“Shh. No. You’re good enough.”

And dammit, here were the tears again. Lance sniffed. Sniffed again. Keith reached out and put his hands on both sides of Lance’s face.  __

“You’re good enough, Lance. You’re one of the best witches I’ve ever met. And you’re good enough, more than good enough, for me.”

And now Lance was crying in earnest. It was even worse than when his ice stars had been falling all around him, because these tears were real, and they were for himself, and for Keith, and for all the things he couldn’t push out of his own head. Lance hadn’t realized just how long he had been wanting this boy until now, and now it was clear that Lance had wanted him for years and years. A lifetime of loving in the darkness of his own heart.

**

The seaside cliffs shone white in the moonlight, nearly the same shade as Keith’s neck. The two of them sat cross-legged side by side staring out over the neverending waves. There were a thousand a two different thoughts and feelings coursing through every neuron in Lance’s head, but at the moment all he was aware of was how close their bodies were, how hard they had been fighting just an hour before. 

How long this had been in the making.

Keith reached into the air and drew a tiny butterfly out of light. It flapped its wings experimentally, then flew away over the steep drop of the cliffs. 

Neither of them said a word. A small breeze ruffled the tall grass and tickled the back of Lance’s neck. Slowly, he put his hand down on the ground between them. It felt like casting a rope out into an ocean. He felt the fears coming back. What if he had dreamt it? What if Keith had been deceiving him somehow? What if—

A hand covered his own. Lance looked at Keith, and found him smiling the sweetest smile back at him. 

With his other hand, Keith reached over and touched Lance’s chest. There was another tugging sensation, although this one was the mirror of the summoning spell; where that had been unpleasant, this extraction felt necessary. Like squeezing pus out of a wound. When Keith drew his hand back, a dark, globular liquid phased out of Lance’s breastbone, and with it, the whispering doubts and insecurities in Lance’s head declined from a dull roar to a murmur. 

Lance sent a tiny stream of magic to assist in the spell. Together, they pushed the liquid out and away. The light-butterfly, still flitting through the air, landed inquisitively on the muddy orb. The second it touched down on it, the orb began to tremble and shake, vibrating itself into a million tiny droplets. Each and every one of them burnt with the light of the butterfly for the briefest instant, and then vanished as if they had never been.

Sighing, Lance lay his head on Keith’s shoulder. Scooched in a little closer so their hips bumped together. 

The night was quiet, and so were they. 


End file.
